Gentleman Pervert
by Digitallace
Summary: Can Harry come to terms with both Draco and his werewolf form? And more importantly, can Draco come to terms with it? Warnings for explicit adult content.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Serious thanks to Deb, who did the full beta work on this story. Also, thanks go out to my dear friends (you know who you are) who assured me that I wasn't insane for thinking this fic was mildly hot, despite the kinky nature. This was written for our little LJ community The KinkClub and posted there earlier. The mission: Make bestiality hot. Did I do it? Well, I'll leave that ultimately up to you readers, but I've already patted myself on the back *grin*.

Gentleman Pervert

Harry stared off into the distance, unwilling to sulk even though he felt very sullen. The fact of the matter was that he should be thrilled to be here in Grimmauld Place instead of locked up in his room at the Dursleys. Although, none of that changed the fact that he was bored out of his mind.

The Order still refused to let him sit in on any of their meetings, and everyone popping in and out of the rickety manor was still treating him like a child, even though he was nearly of age. Ron and Hermione were still at the Burrow, but nobody thought it was safe enough for Harry to be there too. They'd rather him here, where they could keep their eye on him, only no one ever watched him because no one was ever around. He couldn't remember missing Sirius more than he did now.

Had he not been so excruciatingly bored, he might have been more reluctant to agree when Remus came to him with a new guest. It was raining, perfect weather for gloomy news, and when there came a knock at the door, Harry would have been pleased to hear just about anything. 'Voldemort has found you' would even be welcome words to his ears, anything to break the monotony.

As it was, there was only Remus and a thin, cloaked figure by his side. Harry ushered them through and took Lupin's coat, but was rebuked when he reached for the stranger's. "Alright, Professor Lupin?" Harry asked, unable to break himself of the antiquated moniker.

"I have a favor to ask of you, and know in advance that it's a lot to ask," he began.

"Anything for you, Sir, you know that," Harry answered and regretted his words the moment his eyes flicked to the tightly robed stranger.

"This young man has been severely injured by the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. He needs refuge, Harry, a place to hide and this was the only place I could think of," Remus explained.

Harry wouldn't have agreed for just anyone, but he could tell his old mentor was desperate. "I assume this is him?" Harry asked, gesturing to the man beneath the cloak.

"Yes," Remus sighed. "Please wait before you pass judgment, Harry. He has nowhere else to go and he might die if left alone or in a less suitable hiding place."

"Who is he?" Harry asked, reaching forward again to grasp the man's cloak. Again the stranger recoiled and shifted behind Remus. "I must know him for you to be treading so carefully. Tell me who he is."

Remus turned to their guest and gave a curt nod. A scoffing sound hissed from beneath the cloak and suddenly the cowl dropped to reveal brilliant blond hair and unmarred features. Harry tried to feel shocked but he simply couldn't. There were only a handful of people in Britain that Harry might refuse entry and Draco Malfoy was near the top of that list.

"Harry," Remus warned, "remember what I said."

"I remember, but he seems fine to me," Harry pointed out, narrowing his eyes at the intruder.

"His physical wounds have been healed as best they can be, but his mental wounds live on, Harry. Show me the kindness I know you for. The kindness your mother would have shown," Remus pleaded.

"There's no need to bring my mother into this," Harry snapped. "How do you know he's not faking just to get close to The Order?"

"My father's in Azkaban," Draco snarled. Harry waited to be implicated in Lucius' imprisonment as he had been all year, but the accusation never crossed his lips. "My mother was made the Death Eater's plaything and died at their hands. I have no clout with the Dark Lord. I have no reason to remain loyal to him."

Harry swallowed down a rush of emotion at Malfoy's broken confession and finally nodded. The incident at the Astronomy Tower was still fresh on his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to turn Draco away in this state. "He can stay," Harry said simply and made his way swiftly to the stairs. "You can take any room currently unspoken for, Malfoy," he called from the landing. "Remus, I'm sure you can help him settle in."

Harry didn't see Draco even once until much later that evening. Harry ate alone in the kitchen and had slipped up to bed only to be awoken by sharp keening sounds. At first he assumed it was an animal outside and went to the window, figuring he'd left it cracked open. When he found it shut tightly, Harry listened harder. It was coming from inside the house.

He was the only one home that night, since there was no order meeting and no Auror assigned a room. They apparently had their hands full with attacks at the moment, and everyone thought Harry was perfectly secure at Grimmauld Place. Then he remembered that he wasn't alone, and padded softly out into the corridor.

It seemed Malfoy had chosen the room directly across from his own, and Harry wondered briefly if he'd known Harry's proximity when he selected it. There was no indicator that this was Harry's room, however, so until Remus told him, Harry didn't see why the blond should know. Carefully he moved across the creaking floorboards and knocked. "Malfoy?" he called through the door. "Are you okay?"

"Sod off, Potter," came the expected reply.

Harry glowered at the door and made to turn away but anger stilled him. Here Harry was being perfectly generous and kind and Draco was still his same rude self. Perhaps Harry had been too hasty in allowing the man to hide here. With anger boiling through his blood, Harry yanked open the door, set of telling the Slytherin off. "Listen here, Malfoy. You're under my roof now-"

His words died sharply on the air when he looked to see Draco sweaty and writhing in his bed. A blush stole across Harry's cheeks as he thought he'd walked in on the blond wanking, but another glance showed the Slytherin in immense pain. Harry rushed to his side and held him still to the mattress. "Tell me what's wrong, Malfoy."

"It…hurts…" he rasped through gritted teeth.

"What hurts? Where does it hurt? What's going on, Malfoy?" Harry asked in a panic. He immediately scanned the blond's bare chest - marked only by the faint scar Harry had given him just a few months before – then his arms and face, but found nothing unusual, and he would be damned if he pried Malfoy out of his trousers. That was all he needed, another reason for Draco to tease him. "Please tell me what's wrong."

The sound was almost a whine, because Harry was beginning to worry that Draco might die here with no one to help him. Harry certainly wasn't a trained Healer, hell, he'd hardly paid any attention in class when they'd gone over medical charms.

Draco bit down onto his bottom lip, drawing a drop of blood that seemed to pull Harry's attention. He blinked as Draco's tongue smeared through it, laving it up with what Harry could only describe as a purr. After that, the blond seemed to settle, his muscles were still tense, but they were no longer flinging wildly across the bed either. Harry's own breathing started to slow, and Harry gave Draco a level glare. "What didn't Remus tell me?" he asked bluntly.

With a sigh, the blond turned over, showing his lithe back to Harry. That's when he saw it, the mottled skin that went from shoulder blade all the way across to his waist. It was far nastier than the one Sectumsempra had caused and clearly refused the touch of a Healer. He'd seen scars like that before and everything began to click together in his mind.

"You're a-"

"Werewolf," Draco finished for him.

"Merlin," Harry breathed, reaching out to touch the jagged scar even though etiquette was screaming for him not to in a voice that sounded a lot like Professor McGonagall. Draco flinched at the feel of Harry's fingertips, but he didn't pull away. He allowed Harry to trace the scar from one point to the other.

"Toss me out, call me a freak, do whatever you like, but can it wait until morning? I'm exhausted," Draco bit out.

"I'm not throwing you out, you prat," Harry snapped back and turned to leave. He had a million questions for the blond, but they could all wait until morning. Preferably when Draco was wearing a shirt. It wasn't the scar that bothered him, he realized as he made his way back to his own room. It was the taut, milky flesh all around it.

Harry woke up late the next morning and padded down to the kitchen with a yawn. As he neared the door, he heard and cacophony of metal on metal and rushed in, thinking that surely someone was being injured. The sight that met his eyes, however, might have been the strangest yet. There, hovering over the stove and covered in a heavy dusting of flour was Draco Malfoy. He had several pots scattered around him, some of which filled with unidentified food-like substances and some that looked like they had been filled with something at one point and then messily discarded.

"Malfoy," Harry asked tentatively, unsure if he should disturb the man or back out of the room as if he'd seen nothing. "What exactly did the kitchen do to you that you felt the need to murder it?"

The blond turned in a whirl of powdery whiteness and stared at Harry with a sheepish grin. "I was trying to make us breakfast."

Harry swallowed down a chuckle and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned casually against the doorframe – well out of range from the floury melee. "You do realize I have a house-elf for that, right?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm aware. I only just got him to stop harping on me for the mess. I was just trying to be…nice."

The fact that such a simple word seemed to stick in Draco's throat filled Harry with a mixture of amusement and concern. "Why?"

Draco turned back to his mess and cracked three eggs into a pan. Harry bit his tongue to keep from pointing out that he could see shells in the pan from where he stood across the room. If Malfoy was feeling a momentary lapse of snarkiness, Harry wasn't going to poke it back into existence. "You could have thrown me out last night," he said at last.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Harry huffed.

"My own father doesn't want me to visit him in prison because of my…affliction," Draco said.

"That's horrid," Harry gasped, stepping into the room and closer to the 'cooking' blond.

"It was to be expected, but it still hurt. My blood is tainted and no longer pure. I am no longer worthy of my title and my name," he rasped, leaning over the stove more than Harry thought was prudently needed for cooking.

"You're his son. How could he cast you aside like that? He's in prison for Merlin's sake! What right does he have to judge you?!" Harry didn't know why he was getting so flustered over Malfoys life, but something niggled in his guts, churning with the feeling of injustice. He hated to see people mistreated by someone they trusted and even loved. Perhaps it all stemmed back to his time with the Dursleys, or perhaps it was because he was so sick of having public assumptions levied against him, but what Draco was going through seemed the worst kind of wrong.

"The world isn't rainbows and kittens, Potter," Draco grumbled. "I would have thought that you of all people would realize that by now."

"I know. But some things…some things should always be safe and pure," he sighed, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "Family is one of those things."

Draco laughed harshly into his burning eggs. "Says the boy who never got to know his parents?"

Harry's only response was a sharp intake of breath as he turned around and made to leave the room. He wasn't nearly as sensitive about his parents' death anymore, but that didn't mean he had to sit around and let his rival bring it up when Harry was only trying to be comforting.

"Potter, wait," he called, and Harry turned to see dried streaks in the flour that coated Draco's face. That might have been the only thing rooting him to the spot. It reminded him of a time just a few months ago when he'd observed a sobbing and vulnerable Slytherin and he didn't want things to get out of hand as they had that time. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No," Harry agreed. "You shouldn't have."

"I'm just…lost right now. I'm honestly grateful to you for letting me hide here, but…."

The blond's voice trailed off and Harry picked up the sentiment. "But you're still a Slytherin prat?"

A subtle smirk pulled at the corner of Draco's mouth and he nodded. "Exactly."

Harry rolled his eyes and moved to stand next to Malfoy, feeling his extraordinary heat radiate off of him in waves. "What do you say we banish this mess you've made and have Kreatcher whip us up something edible?"

"Oh yes, Master Potter," the house-elf squeaked from nearby, clearly eavesdropping as he tended to do. "I never thought I'd see the day that a filthy half-blood would show more logic than a Malfoy."

Draco stared incredulously at the house-elf, looking like he might rear back and kick him any moment. "Do you let him talk to you that way?"

"Kreatcher and I have struck a livable balance. I'm not interested in tipping the scales one way or the other at this moment," he explained. The house-elf seemed to ignore the exchange and was already setting to work cleaning up the disaster Draco had made of the kitchen.

"You're peculiar, Harry Potter," Draco whispered at last, his brow set into a tight frown. "Very peculiar."

Harry merely shrugged and sat down at the long table and started reading the Daily Prophet, looking for more lies about him.

Over breakfast, Harry discovered something that he and Draco could talk about without wanting to strangle one another. Quidditch. Turned out they both tended to root for the same teams. Ron would have killed him for the disparaging comments he made about the Cannons, but then again, Ron would have likely throttled him for letting Draco stay there in the first place.

But then somehow, talk of Quidditch turned to sex.

"It's the uniforms," Harry pointed out. "The Bulgarian robes are just…"

"Gryffindor red," Draco offered with a smirk.

"No," Harry huffed. "The color has nothing to do with it. They seem to fit them better, make them more aerodynamic or something."

"You like the way their robes fit, hm?" the blond asked with a suggestively waggled eyebrow.

Harry could already feel his cheeks flushing, the heat trailing down his chest. "I didn't mean it like that," he muttered.

Draco continued to smirk as he shrugged. "I'll admit to checking out a bloke or two in their Quidditch leathers."

"What?" Harry gasped, taken aback by the admission.

"It's only natural, Potter. As Quidditch players we have very toned, athletic bodies. One can't help but wonder what lies beneath all that padding and lacing, right?" he goaded.

"I suppose," Harry answered noncommittally.

"Don't tell me you've never snuck a glance in the locker rooms, even if it was just to compare," Draco teased.

"I _might_ have," Harry replied, putting heavy emphasis on the word 'might'. He and Malfoy _might _be acting civil right this moment, but that didn't mean he was going to give the Slytherin blackmail ammunition.

"What if I told you that I sucked off Marcus Flint in Fourth Year?" Draco attempted.

"Well, firstly, I would call you a liar. Flint wasn't in our Fourth Year, and second I would say it was disgusting. Flint looked like he had troll blood. Surely you could do better than that," Harry replied with a scrunched up expression of loathing.

"So not disgusting that I went down on a bloke, just that it was Flint," Draco repeated.

"It's not my business what you do in your spare time, Malfoy," Harry recovered. "Besides, I think we've already established that you were lying."

"You're right. It was Harper," he smirked.

Harry grew slightly warm. Harper was a year younger than them, but he'd always been one of the better-looking Slytherin students. Harry figured because of all the pureblood inbreeding, most of the Slytherins were monstrous with the exception of Harper, Zabini and of course, Malfoy.

Malfoy's smirk twitched upward as he watched Harry's reaction. "I just wanted to see what it was like, you know?"

Harry nodded weakly. "So, er…what _was_ it like?"

"Well," Draco said, leaning in all to closely. "I could tell you…or I could show you."

Suddenly all Harry could do was blink and swallow, blink and swallow. He opened his mouth to answer and then realized he didn't know what to say and clamped it back shut.

"Call it a thank you for letting me stay here," Draco purred, inching nearer by the moment until his breath was ghosting over Harry's cheek in an all too seductive manner.

Despite the promise of delicious things and the pull of the blond's scent, Harry pulled away. "You don't have to whore yourself out for shelter, Malfoy." Harry slid his chair out from under the table with a deafening shriek and stood. "Or food, or clothing or anything else for that matter. I'm willingly sharing my home with you. I don't require payment of any kind."

With that, Harry turned and strode from the room as quickly as his legs would carry him.

Harry was deftly not thinking about Draco or blowjobs or sex of any kind for that matter, and certainly not all of it together. No, he was thinking about Snape in a skimpy dress and Ron snogging Hermione in the background. It was working quite well until he heard a knock on his door. He ignored it, but apparently persistence is one of the many qualities a Slytherin possessed.

Finally he went over and yanked it open. "What?"

"Am I really so unappealing?" the blond blurted and Harry had to shake his head, thinking he needed to clean out his ears.

"Are you serious?" he asked incredulously.

"You were throwing out all the signals that you were likely interested in blokes, but when I offer myself, you turned me away," Draco explained, as if his words were entirely rational.

"I didn't bring you in here as my rent-boy, Malfoy. I don't need anything in return for showing you a kindness," he repeated, but Draco still looked confused. "I want to help you because it's what I want to do, not because I expect you to fall to your knees and suck my cock."

Draco's eyelids drooped slightly at the sentiment and Harry got the impression for the first time that perhaps the blond enjoyed it. "That's what everyone wants," he stated instead, shaking off the flicker of lust Harry had caught a brief glimpse of. "They want my mouth or my arse or my cock or my pretty hair or my pretty skin…" As he spoke, Draco's voice became almost shrill, as if he were trying to yell but couldn't muster the sound.

Instinctively Harry reached out and pulled Draco to him in a hug, trying very hard not to apply too much pressure to the mark on his back. He just held the blond as Draco shivered against him, still muttering about pale flesh and long fingers until Harry smothered the words with his lips.

Harry hadn't really meant to kiss him, he just couldn't hear anymore about the horrid things that were apparently forced upon him by Voldemort and his minions. But once there, attached to those glorious lips, Harry couldn't find the will to pull away, especially when he felt Draco responding to the touch. The blond parted his lips for him, giving permission for Harry to press further, plunge his tongue inside to tangle with Draco's, but Harry resisted and pulled back softly, still clinging to Draco's arms.

"I find you very desirable, Draco," he breathed across those wet lips, "but I don't use people. You can stay here as long as you like and I will never require this from you."

"What if I want it?" Draco rasped, his body tightening and responding in Harry's arms.

"I can't heal your wounds, Malfoy. I can't even begin to understand what horrors have been afflicted on you, but I won't join them. I won't just be another man in your bed that takes advantage of you," Harry told him firmly. "And I don't think you see me as anything but a debt to be repaid."

"Potter," he began, but Harry just shook his head.

"I've got some stuff to do today, but I'll see you at dinner, yeah?" he asked, and Draco gave him a reluctant nod before slipping his stoic Malfoy mask back in place. As hard as it was to see the blond shift so easily back into old habits, Harry had to admit that it gave him a slight thrill to think that he'd gotten a brief glimpse into another side of the Slytherin – one that wasn't composed entirely of hard, sharp edges that begged to cut and mar.

Harry waited for Draco to turn away before he shut the door. Part of him felt bad for leaving him out in the hall, but he couldn't be near the blond just then. His veins were filled with desire for Draco and he was afraid that prolonged exposure to this lovely, vulnerable Draco would make him do something he would regret.

That night at dinner, Draco deftly avoided Harry's gaze. Harry tried to leave it be but found his frustration mounting as the blond answered his questions with as few words as possible and wouldn't even look up to levitate over the salt, which resulted in a lapful of the tiny white granules. Harry couldn't understand how Draco could be so offended by Harry's refusal to use him for sex.

"Malfoy-" he started, snappier than he had intended, but was cut off when Draco looked up and started speaking at the same time.

"What if I told you that I've always had a crush on you?" the blond blurted, causing Harry to gape.

"What are you playing at?" he asked when his shock began to wear away.

"I'm not playing at anything," Draco bit out defensively. "I've always thought you were handsome in an awkward, gangly sort of way."

"Erm…thanks?" Harry wondered aloud, unsure what other response he could come up with.

Draco merely narrowed his eyes and pressed on. "But now you're just handsome. You're rough and powerful and stupidly trusting and like to go bounding into trouble and I like you."

"You do realize that only some of those things were compliments, right?" Harry replied blandly, but he couldn't stop a tiny grin from forming.

"The important part was the last bit," Draco pointed out, pursing his lips. "So?"

"So what? So you like me? What does that even mean?" Harry asked. "You want to be my friend? You want to date me? You want to shag me?"

"Why can't it mean all of that?" Draco pressed and Harry hadn't noticed him moving until he was directly in front of him again.

"Does being a werewolf give you super speed?" Harry asked lamely.

"Super stealth maybe," Draco replied and leaned forward rather presumptuously. He was right though, Harry welcomed the soft kiss bestowed upon his lips that grew into something stronger, deeper, but just because he was correct didn't make him any less presumptuous.

When Harry pulled back, he noticed that his hands were buried in Draco's hair, making it almost as messy as his own. He had no idea when he'd decided to do that, but he found Draco's hair silky to the touch and suddenly didn't want to relinquish his hold. A low, growling noise escaped from Draco's throat and the blond pulled back immediately, flushing profusely.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Just forget what I said. This isn't going to work." And with that, Draco fled the dining room and took the stairs up to his room two at a time.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" Harry whispered to himself as he watched Draco's swift retreat.

That night Harry was woken up again by high, keening noises, but this time he knew what it was. He immediately went to Draco's room, hoping to help him ease through the pain like he had the night before. "Draco, are you al-"

He stopped dead in the doorway, transfixed by the sight of Draco arching off the bed, fisting his cock with wanton abandon. Draco looked over, his eyes wide, pupils dilated and he came, spraying thick cords of fluid across his hands and chest. "Knocking," he gasped out as he caught his breath. "Knocking is customary in these types of situations, Potter."

"I'm sorry," Harry blurted. "I thought you were in pain again…like last night."

"Not pain," Draco assured him, slipping on a lascivious smile that made Harry's cock twitch to attention. Draco's eyes went to the growing bulge in his pajama bottoms at once, the grin turning feral and hungry. "Would you like help with that?"

"What? But you…you just ran away earlier," he balked, frustration oozing from his pores.

"I just…I have trouble controlling my beast," Draco explained. "I didn't want to scare you."

"Scare me?" Harry asked incredulously as he moved mindlessly to sit at the edge of Draco's bed. "I've gone up against Voldemort, a basilisk, an enormous spider and his thousands of children, a flock of Dementors, a gaggle of Death Eaters, your father _and_ your crazy aunt. And that doesn't even include the Tri-Wizard Tournament," Harry added. "What about _you_ is supposed to scare me?"

"I'm a werewolf, remember?" Draco bit out.

"So is Remus, so are lots of perfectly decent people," Harry countered.

"And would you care to date any of _them_?" Draco snarled, his eyes flashing silver in the moonlight.

"Well no," Harry agreed, "but that has nothing to do with them being werewolves…Remus was my father's friend, for Merlin's sake," Harry noted, his face scrunched in mild disgust. "I don't care that you turn fuzzy once a month."

"I can shift at will," Draco corrected.

"Bullocks," Harry huffed. "Only powerful shifters can do that."

Draco shrugged. "Well, I can. I can shift now if you like."

"Show me," Harry breathed, completely awestruck as Draco held up his hand and changed just his fingers to long, white hooking claws. "Brilliant!"

Draco gave him the strangest look, shaking his head in dismay. "This really doesn't bother you, does it?"

"I think it's sort of sexy," Harry replied.

"Pervert," Draco shot back, but he was smiling, and then he was kissing Harry wildly once more. He quickly retracted the claws and pulled Harry down to the bed with him, making the front of Harry's chest just as sticky as his own.

Harry moaned as Draco's fingers wandered along the taut paths of his flesh, and he gasped when those fingers dove beneath his trousers. "Fuck, Draco," he hissed, thrusting up against the blond's hand as nimble fingers curled around his length.

"Is that what you want?" the Slytherin purred. "To fuck my tight, hot arse?"

Harry swallowed thickly and shook his head. "No," he rasped, "I mean, yes, Godric fucking yes, but not tonight."

The softest smile played across Draco's face, reaching all the way to his eyes. "My perverted gentleman," he purred as he began to stroke Harry in long, hard movements.

Harry hissed, clutching Draco to him and ravishing his mouth as he came, his moans vibrating through them both as his release spilled up and over to mingle with Draco's. With one final shudder, Harry sagged against the blond, suddenly unsure of what would come next. Draco's eyes were alight with pleasure and his erection had already returned.

Rolling over, Harry pulled Draco on top of him, spreading wide so that the blond could take him as he wanted. The feel of Draco's thick cock pressing into the cleft of his arse made Harry shiver, but Draco quickly pulled away, curling up next to the Gryffindor instead.

"I can't control myself well enough to enter you, Harry. That can never happen," he whispered, sounding quite sorrowful.

"I'm sure you co-"

"That can. Never. Happen," he repeated more firmly. "I don't care how swept away I get in the moment, you have to stop me if I ever try it, do you understand?"

"It can't be that bad," Harry muttered.

"I'll shift and I could hurt you, even kill you, Harry," Draco growled, that feral bit of voice showing through again. It was part of him now, the wolf, and Draco was forever changed by it.

"Okay," he said. "So, does that mean we're doing this again?"

Draco broke into a cheeky grin and nodded. "Over and over and over if I get my way."

Author's Note: Stay tuned for hot Were sex.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thanks again to Deb for the beta and thanks to everyone who reviewed the 1st chapter.

Grimmauld Place remained empty of Order members for the week following Harry and Draco's tryst. They took advantage of the time alone by continuing their experiments in carnal passion while trying to maintain some sort of balance outside of the bedroom. The two rivals still disagreed on plenty, and while that served as delicious fuel for their heated rendezvous, it didn't bode well for anything lasting.

Harry's largest problem with Draco wasn't that he was a werewolf, or that he still believed some of what Voldemort preached about pureblood even after what was done to him, it was that the blond had built up impenetrable walls around his heart that he just wouldn't allow Harry through. That led to bickering, which led to arguing, which led to fighting which ultimately led to fucking, but Harry knew they couldn't possibly keep up that pace. Eventually one of them would crack and Harry didn't want that. He found himself falling for the Slytherin prat and every day they spent together bound him closer. He knew Draco had been through horrible things back at the Manor, and he didn't begrudge the blond his privacy but it was hard to feel like he was anything more than a plaything when the Slytherin wouldn't open up.

It all came to a head one evening over a month into their tumultuous new relationship. It was close to the full moon, but it was also Harry's birthday, and he desperately wanted to spend it with his lover. Draco insisted that it would be better to lock himself away in his room, regardless of the fact that he'd already taken the Wolfsbane potion and he would still be in his right mind after the shift.

"I want to see you change," Harry insisted.

"It's disgusting, I assure you, Harry. I'd rather you be spared from it," Draco replied, not looking up from his magazine. Harry could feel the blond tensing already, teetering on a precipice that could end up driving him to his quarters sooner rather than later. Harry didn't want that, but he also didn't want to give ground on this battle. He always spent his birthday alone, and this one time he'd hoped would be different.

"I've seen people shift before, Draco. It's not disgusting, you're just being a prude," Harry bit out.

"A prude?" Draco gasped, finally giving Harry his attention. "Are you honestly calling the man that you fucked up against that wall right there a prude?" he asked incredulously, pointing at the study wall.

"Sex comes perfectly easy to you, Draco. It's everything else that you're a prude about. This wolf thing isn't nearly as horrid as you're making it," he huffed.

"Isn't nearly as horrid?" Draco seethed, his temper rising to match the pitch of his voice. Harry knew the blond was good and angry since he couldn't form a coherent thought of his own and merely continued to echo Harry's own words back to him. "It's painful and terrifying and every time I shift I think of Fenrir and what he did to me."

And as usual, Draco's words defeated Harry, burning him to the core. He always wondered if Draco chose his phrasing on purpose to achieve this very effect, but regardless, Harry went to the blond and pulled him close. "I'm sorry," Harry whispered against the shell of Draco's ear. "I know it's bad, I really do, but you don't have to hide it from me. I love you, Draco."

"You…what?" he asked, pulling free of Harry's embrace.

Harry immediately cursed himself for saying those words aloud. Still, they were true, and now that they were out, he might as well stand behind them. "I love you," he repeated.

"I-I didn't know," Draco stammered, grabbing Harry's hand in his own. "Are you being serious, or are you just trying to get out of trouble?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I would never say that just to get out of fighting with you when undressing you works just as well," Harry pointed out with a shy grin.

"Fair point." The blond continued to stare at him, as if Confunded. "I suppose…since it's your birthday, I could spend the night with you."

"You mean it?" Harry asked, giddy to know that he'd finally get to see his lover's wolf form.

Draco nodded slightly. "I mean, people are supposed to make compromises when they're in love, right?"

"Right," Harry breathed, knowing that was just as good as his private lover screaming his own feelings from the rooftop.

"Do you want your present now?" Draco asked, his eyes taking on a familiar gleam, one that told Harry he was in for a spectacular orgasm. Harry barely had time to nod before he was being pressed against the wall. Draco ripped at his trousers, tearing them wide until it revealed his prize. Harry remained in a fairly constant state of arousal when he was near the blond, and his quickly hardening erection bounced free of his pants with enormous glee.

The sight of Draco licking his lips and falling to his knees nearly undid him, but he had no time to think as the sneaky Slytherin used the distraction to swallow Harry to the hilt in one wet motion. The hot folds of Draco's mouth engulfed him and Harry hissed as his lover's clever tongue treated his throbbing cock like a melting ice cream cone, licking along his shaft and curling around his head as if Harry's cock might dribble away in the heat.

Harry was so close to coming, but Draco seemed to have something else in mind and tugged gently on Harry's bollocks, giving him just enough pain to bring him back to that tender balance. As the blissful assault continued, Harry's fingers found their way into Draco's satiny hair, pulling slightly when he felt a finger breach his tight entrance.

"Draco," he screamed, tugging Harder at the hair in his fists. "Yes, more, gods more."

Draco obliged, adding another digit to the first and pumping them in and out in time with his lips around Harry's cock. It was a wonder that combination didn't send him over the edge right away and only sheer willpower kept him holding on. Harry wanted to see where this might lead and he didn't want to blow his load too soon.

As it stood, he wasn't disappointed.

A third finger quickly joined the other two and Harry was bucking and writhing against the wall, unsure which contact he craved more of, Draco's blazing mouth or those perfect, nimble fingers. By this point in their relationship, Harry was fairly certain he knew what to expect when Draco gave head. He was apparently an expert, something Harry tried not to think about as it applied to more than himself. But something unexpected occurred that evening, something that changed Harry's perception of Draco forever.

As Harry was nearing climax, he felt teeth slide along his shaft. Draco hadn't ever slipped before, but that wasn't what worried him in that brief moment. What worried him was that those weren't Draco pearly flat teeth. They were sharp, wolf teeth. "Fuck!" he screamed as the tongue on his cock changed shape, becoming wider as it milked him. "Oh fuck, Draco, you're a fucking god!" he screamed as he came suddenly and violently down his lover's throat to a chorus of blinding stars across his vision.

By the time Harry was able to open his eyes, Draco was nowhere to be found. He snapped out of his lust-induced fog and pulled up his trousers, following a trail of tattered clothes up to Draco's bedroom. When he got there, he found the door securely locked.

"Draco?" he called, but there was no answer. Harry tried every unlocking charm he knew, but nothing worked on the obstinate handle. "Draco, let me in," he begged.

A fierce growl was the only reply, and Harry knew it was the wolf's throat and not Draco's that made the sound. Harry sagged to the floor outside Draco's bedroom, leaning his head against the door. "Why won't you let me see you?" Harry asked, letting his fingers draw shapes against the smooth wood. "Draco, I want to see you."

Whimpers met his ears through the door and Harry could tell by their proximity that Draco was just on the other side. "I love you," he whispered before letting his eyelids droop. It was lucky he'd found the energy to make it all the way up those stairs after such a toe-curling orgasm as Draco had given him moments before. He would have preferred to snuggle up to his furry lover that night, but the floor outside Draco's bedchamber would have to do.

Draco avoided Harry for the next three days and would have likely continued to do so if Harry hadn't cornered him in the loo. Just as Draco was unzipping and starting to take a piss, Harry pulled off his invisibility cloak and glared at his lover.

"Dammit, Harry," Draco grumbled as he missed his target, quickly cleaning up the mess with a flick of his wand. "Was that really necessary?"

"Apparently so, otherwise I might have seen you at some point these last three days," he bit out. "What are you playing at?"

"I'm not playing at anything," Draco grumbled. "I just thought…"

"Thought that now you'd elicited an 'I love you' from the Boy-Who-Lived you could end this little charade?" Harry finished for him.

"No!" Draco shouted, hurriedly refastening his trousers so he could turn and face Harry without his cock dangling out. "That's not it at all."

"Well explain it to me then, Draco, because that's what it seems like. It seems like you've been using me all this time, playing some sort of Exploding Snap with my head," he snapped.

"I shifted!" Draco said.

"Clearly, Draco…even though you refused to let me see after you'd promised-"

It was Harry's turn to get cut off when Draco threw his hands up in frustration. "While I was sucking you off! I started to shift! I could have hurt you!"

"But you didn't," Harry corrected. "In fact, it was sort of amazing."

"I still could have hur-" Draco began, but his voice died abruptly on his lips. "Amazing?"

"Brilliant actually," Harry elaborated. "I don't think I've ever come so hard in my life."

Draco was silent for much longer than Harry felt comfortable with, but before Harry could poke him and make sure he hadn't fallen asleep with his eyes open, Draco found his voice. "You liked it," he said lamely.

"Loved it," Harry countered. "Even the teeth."

Draco winced. "Sorry about that. The change came on so fast, I couldn't stop, and the wolf…oh Salazar, the wolf was enjoying it too much." Draco buried his face in his hands, but Harry pulled them back.

"Well, that makes two of us, Draco, so why are you so upset?" Harry asked, completely dumbfounded.

"I just-I just can't believe this. Are you saying all this to try and cheer me up, because if you were scared and turned off, you can be honest with me. I swear I'd understand."

"You're serious?" Harry asked incredulously. "You really couldn't tell how turned on I was?"

A dark chuckle escaped from Draco's throat and he pulled Harry into a tight, clenching hug. "You constantly amaze me, Potter. My sweet, little pervert."

"So," Harry asked tentatively, plying tender kisses along Draco's stubbly jaw, "does that mean we can do it again?"

"Insatiable pervert," Draco amended and snogged Harry until he saw stars.

Harry was pleased by how much Draco seemed to open up to him after that day. He finally told Harry all about the night he was turned, how he'd been a gift to Fenrir for killing an entire market full of Muggles. Draco had been terrified of Fenrir before that night, but the moment the werewolf sealed the door shut behind him, locking Draco in a tiny bedroom with him, Draco said his fear became palpable. He'd given in right away, playing the good little servant in the hopes that he'd be spared the tooth and claw, but after Fenrir had his way with Draco, he swiped his shifted paw across Draco's back and passed on his disease.

After that, Voldemort tossed him in the dungeons, saying he was too unclean to mingle amongst them any longer. It was a miracle that he'd been able to escape, and it was only because Draco knew the secret doors and paths of the Manor far better than Voldemort did. Remus had found Draco in a filthy alley outside of a small Were encampment. These wolves had chosen no side on the war, but Draco knew it was only a matter of time before Fenrir came to recruit them, and Draco knew he'd never escape notice. It was a blessing that Remus came along when he did, promising to see to it that Draco was taken care of.

Harry listened with rapt attention to every detail of the story, watching a myriad of emotions play across his lover's face as he recounted the tale. More than ever Harry wanted to belong to a man like Draco. He saw himself as weak because of this new affliction, but Harry tried to explain that it was quite the opposite.

Despite all of Draco's newfound openness, Harry still felt as thought something was missing from their relationship, and that they couldn't be whole until he discovered what it was and mended the problem.

"You're the hero, Harry. You're the strong one," Draco argued.

"You could have given up. You could have allowed yourself to waste away in those dungeons, or press Voldemort into taking your life, but you didn't," Harry told him. "You were strong, and you were brave and you fought against the odds that had been dealt to you. What else could a hero want in a lifelong partner?"

Draco swallowed thickly and opened his mouth, most likely to protest, but Harry covered Draco's lips with his own and kissed him deeply until he forgot his argument. "This is one of our last nights together before we're back on the train to Hogwarts."

"The last full moon before then too," Draco whispered.

"Seems like the perfect time to make up for ditching me on my birthday," Harry pointed out as he moved to straddle his lover on the large bed in his room. Before Draco could say anything else, Harry took the blond's earlobe into his mouth and sucked generously until Draco was panting against him and grinding his erection into Harry's thigh.

Harry's fingers found the edge of Draco's jumper and tugged, yanking the soft fabric off of his lover's body and tossing it to the floor. Draco did the same and Harry's shirt quickly joined the Slytherin's, along with trousers and pants. Harry let his hands trail softly over Draco's newly exposed flesh and felt the rush he always did when he gazed upon his boyfriend. Draco was stunning, there weren't enough words to describe his soft, pale beauty that had the perfect amount of coarseness to make him rough and desirable.

His fingers went to Draco's hair, pushing it back from his brow so that Harry could plant kiss after kiss along the pointed bridge of Draco's nose. He could feel Draco's bony hips and thick erection grinding against his arse, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to feel Draco inside of him. He'd kept his promise these few months together but Harry wanted more and he wanted it _now_.

Normally they didn't use the assistance of magic in the bedroom, because Harry preferred to do things the long, natural way rather than rush things with stretching spells or lubrication charms, but Harry knew that Draco would never willingly agree to what he was planning if Harry asked for Draco to prepare him, so his options were slim.

Grabbing his wand from the nightstand and ignoring Draco's questioning glance, Harry cast the needed spells and grinned when his lover's eyes widened dramatically. "Harry," he said in a warning tone, "what are you up to?"

"Just relax," Harry breathed and positioned himself directly above the blond's glorious cock.

"We can't do this," Draco insisted in a panicked tone. "If this is what you want, we'll do it another time. Not so close to the full moon."

"Did you take the Wolfsbane potion?" Harry asked, his eyes already clouded with need.

"Yes." The word became a hiss on Draco's lips as Harry used that same moment to begin his descent. As he slowly impaled himself on Draco's lap, all protests became a shuddering heap of gibberish. "You're so fucking tight," Draco snarled, obviously trying to hold still while Harry worked his way down his pale shaft.

Palms flat against Draco's chest, Harry stared at the beautiful blond beneath him and slid further down onto the rigid cock breaching him for the first time. His muscles contracted and relaxed to allow Draco to plunge deeper and Harry couldn't remember having felt so enthralled. Malfoy's mercurial gaze seemed to have glossed over with lust and Harry could see he was fighting hard to keep his beast at bay. When he was finally fully seated, Harry suddenly wanted more.

He rose up experimentally, falling back down a bit quicker than before and pulling the most delicious noises from Draco's throat. Groans mixed with growls, hissing and snarling tangled together until Harry couldn't tell which was which. All the while, Draco flung his head back, arching into Harry's erratic squeezing and sliding.

When Draco opened his eyes again, locking them with Harry's, they were darker, a fierce and intoxicating pewter silver that Harry had only glimpsed before. The wolf was trying to break free of its imprisonment inside Draco's luscious skin and Harry wanted it to come – he wanted to be devoured and owned completely. This was it, this was the missing piece. Draco, Harry and the wolf all had to bond together in harmonious desire. Before now, Draco had been keeping his beast at bay, hating it, afraid of it, but Harry could change that.

"Let go," Harry whispered thickly.

"I'm not…I'm not holding onto anything," Draco gasped out, clearly distracted by Harry's clenching movements around his cock.

"I want all of you, Draco. I love every part of you, don't be ashamed," Harry whispered, stroking Draco's face lovingly.

"Harry, you don't know what you're asking," Draco whispered, suddenly focused on Harry's eyes and his pulsing neck. "I could contaminate you if I changed now."

"It's not a disease, Draco. It's what you are, who you are and I want you," Harry replied, his voice gravelly and begging. "Change. Shift. Be mine."

Draco shut his eyes tightly, blocking Harry from the stream of emotion flowing through them. When they opened again, the blond looked resolved. "I really hope you don't regret this," he sighed and Harry could feel new muscles rippling beneath his fingertips. He grinned in his excitement. Seeing the change and feeling the change happening all around him were completely different experiences. He could sense bones shifting and lengthening where he couldn't see them, muscles tightened in some places and loosened in others and soon fur was flowing freely beneath his fingers.

Harry had never even seen Draco's shifted form, but he'd seen enough werewolves to know what to expect, but even that didn't prepare him. Draco was beautiful. He wasn't like any wolf Harry had every laid eyes upon. The fur beneath his fingers wasn't course and ugly, it was fine, almost like feathers it was so soft, and the most stunning pearly white Harry had ever seen. His fur gave him a soft glow and Harry marveled at the tiny patches of pink flesh that peeked through.

The scent alone was intoxicating, a mixture of the musky woods and Draco's own exotic notes made Harry just want to bury his face into all that fur. Clawed paws gripped his hips where long fingers had just been and Harry glanced up into the eyes of his wolfish lover. They were much the same, still silver, still haunted and still his Draco. He knew his Slytherin was fighting to control his body, keep himself still, but Draco radiated heat and hunger and Harry was lost in desire.

Possibly the most drastic change was Draco's size. When the shift to werewolf started, they were nearly face-to-face, but now Harry was nuzzling his nose into silky fur somewhere between Draco's chest and abdomen. He also found his lover was still proportional and gasped as his arsehole was stretched wider to accommodate the much thicker and longer cock of Draco's werewolf form.

He'd never felt so filled, never felt so claimed. With a slow, testing motion, Harry lifted himself off of the giant phallus; awestruck that such a huge erection could have even fit inside of him without tearing him in half. It had probably only worked because he had already been buried inside of him when the change began. He was sore, but he reckoned that it was worth it.

Eyes locked on Draco's, Harry plunged himself back down in a single, blissful movement and watched as Draco fully lost control and howled into the air. His sharp, ivory claws bit into the soft flesh of his hips as Draco bucked upward to meet the next thrust and Harry's screams of pleasure mingled in the air with his lover's panting snarls. Up and down, up and down, Harry and Draco set a breakneck rhythm of pounding that Harry knew would have him limping for days, if not weeks, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Each time Draco's cock filled him it brushed over and over his prostate, sending him into keening release.

His come soaked the soft fur of Draco's belly and Harry ran his hands through it as he continued to ride his beautiful beast. A moment later he felt sharp teeth on his throat, pressing gently as a wide tongue flicked out to lick along Harry's pulse point, and if Harry thought his erection would wane after such a brilliant orgasm, he was sorely mistaken.

With a feral growl, Draco lifted Harry up and tossed him face down on the bed and that wide expanse of tongue lashed along Harry's arse, tasting him intimately and Harry groaned beneath the assault. Draco's tongue was almost soothing to his swollen flesh, but just as he began to relax into the smooth, circular journey of Draco's mouth, his wolfish lover mounted him from behind and thrust deep inside of him once more.

"Fuck, Draco, yes," Harry screamed. "More!"

Draco howled again, his fur glistening like the silvery moon, and pounded into Harry with abandon, pulling every last pleasurable moan from Harry's ragged throat. Harry reached down and fisted his own cock, thrusting in time with Draco until he could feel the pressure building again, seeking an outlet.

Harry shuddered under the power of his second orgasm and clenched tightly around Draco's throbbing cock. He felt the blond's body tighten all around him, holding him close as he pumped one last time. Harry bore down, shivering as he felt the massive prick twitch and spill its release inside of him, filling him to the brim with his wolfish seed.

Collapsing to the bed, Harry pulled free of the slick intrusion and tried to catch his breath. The warm liquid seeping down his legs was far less offensive than Harry might have thought, but it ensured he'd be showering sometime very soon. Draco grunted at him, and Harry moved back, giving room for the blond to curl up in the bed beside him.

He buried his face in all that fur again, smelling Draco and himself and the evidence of their coupling all mingled together in perfect harmony. Draco's arms found their way around his body and pulled him close and Harry had never been so sleepy and so comfortable in his entire life, so he took advantage of it and closed his eyes.

Harry woke in Draco's arms, not the wolf's. He had no fur to snuggle into and no large, sinuous legs draped possessively over him, but Harry found himself very much in love with the ones that were. Smooth, milky flesh was just as good as pale, luminescent fur and Draco's lithe legs could wrap around him any time.

Taking a moment, Harry just watched Draco sleep, his thick, blond lashes resting sedately against his cheeks. He mentally checked his body over and found himself sticky, sore and possibly bleeding. Nothing that couldn't be cured with a potion or two though, and Harry felt sure Draco would be agreeable to brewing him something.

Last night had blown his mind and left him breathless. In the heat of the moment, he'd asked for something he never would have rationally thought to and it had been more than brilliant. His cock twitched at the memory of being taken and possessed by Draco in every way. He didn't think his body would be up for it every time, but he would definitely be up to fucking Draco in his shifted form again.

"You're a kinky little whore, Potter," Draco murmured without opening his eyes.

"Takes one to spot one, Malfoy," Harry replied with a grin, kissing his lover's succulent lips.

"You were thinking of my giant wolf cock just now, weren't you?" he asked, flashing a toothy grin as he launched himself up, pinning Harry's back to the mattress.

"Mmmm, it was pretty bloody amazing, but next time I'm going to bring you off with my mouth," Harry promised, his emerald eyes flashing with renewed lust. "I can already taste it."

Draco responded with a growling purr and captured Harry's lips once more, devouring him like the wolf he was. "You're a peculiar one, Harry Potter," he echoed, and again, Harry merely shrugged.

"I love you. All of you," he replied unabashedly.

"Well, I suppose it's good Remus left me at your door then, hm?" Draco replied, pressing soft, tender kisses along Harry's jaw.

"Do you think he knew?" Harry asked, pulling back suddenly.

"He knew you had a big heart," Draco replied, "but I don't think he expected it to be quite…this big."

Harry chuckled and pried himself up from the bed, pulling the Slytherin along with him. "I need a shower."

Draco scanned the dried streaks down Harry's thighs along with the spotting of blood on his cock and beneath his nails. "Fuck, Harry. I think I marked you."

"You can apply a healing salve later," Harry replied as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"No, Harry. That means you might turn at the next full moon," Draco said, worry set into his beautiful features.

"Well," Harry replied levelly, "I suppose that means next month could have very interesting results."

"You really don't care if you turn into a werewolf like me?" Draco asked, completely awestruck.

Harry cradled Draco's face within his hands and pressed a tender, loving kiss to his shocked lips. He gave his lover the full weight of his stare and let everything he felt show through his brilliant green eyes. "I really don't care," Harry replied softly and honestly and he could see something shift behind Draco's careful gaze and Harry reckoned he was seeing the last of Draco's walls fall away at last.

Draco swallowed past a swell of emotion and dove forward, kissing Harry in earnest. "I'm a very lucky dog."

Fin

Author's Note: Verdict? Did I complete my misson, or didn't I? There may or may not be a follow up story where Harry might or might not turn into a wolf as well....*wolfish grin*


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